


The Bastards and the Damned

by ghost_writer0013



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2019-10-10 11:55:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17425418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghost_writer0013/pseuds/ghost_writer0013
Summary: Van der Linde's Gang is made up of bastards, victims of bastards, and other bastards who put bastards in the ground. Sadie Adler has decided to be the one who buries the most damned of them all, but Arthur Morgan is not so ready to watch another person he cares for damn themselves for eternity. This story takes place right after Sadie Adler decides to become a gunman and goes all through the story until it concludes at the epilogue. Eventually this becomes Sadie/Arthur, and in between their adventures there will be a healthy dosage of rest of the Van der Linde Gang and their madness.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadie Adler's life changes with a single bullet and a nightmare that doesn't end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to pick up and replay RDR2 after a hiatus, and I decided I should start it all at the beginning! This will be the first part of the prologue, so there isn't too much of Sadie and Arthur in this one. I promise it'll be worth the wait.

Her eyes stung from exhaustion and her ears rang with the deafening echo of the single gunshot that took her husband and her life away from her, but Sadie refused to collapse into the very grief that kept her erect and with her chin aloft. The sorry sack of shit in front of her, an O’Driscoll, leered at her with the sort of hunger only a depraved man could harbor. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him, and she doubted it would be the last. She just wondered how long it would take before he would force himself on her the way his brawnier counterparts did. A sick part of her wanted to spit in his face, goad him. _“Let’s go, boy. What are you waiting for?”_

Sadie rolled the grime and dried blood between her fingers against her palm. Her body felt like every inch of its inside and outside was coated in a filth she’d have to spend a lifetime working on to clean, but she refused to take the water that they had offered to her. It wasn’t a kindness. She knew that much. These men were _not_ kind.

Three days ago, if she had counted them correctly, she and Jake had sat around their table like they always did. _“You’re a nutcase,”_ she’d teased him when he told her about the traps he’d set in the trees. His defense? “I’m not catching any critters in this snow, that’s for damn sure.”

She’d thought of this moment over and over again, but even when she wracked her mind she couldn’t think of a single indicator that everything she knew and loved would be ripped from her. It all happened so quickly.

Mid-laugh, it seemed like, the front door of their home was forced open and gunshots rang. Sadie threw herself to the floor and crawled under the table. Men seemed to invade every space of their home and began to ransack the place; dishes smashed, chairs were overturned, and she started to feel sickeningly warm.

“God, NO!” She heard herself scream as she realized the wet warmth she felt at her fingertips was scarlet. In front of her, Jake gaped and gurgled as he tried to make words. His eyes bore into her own; their horrors mirrored. “Jake!” Putting one elbow in front of the other, Sadie tried crawling closer. Her sobs were muffled and dry. Whatever she’d meant to say or do never happened. As soon as her brain synced with the nightmare happening around her, she felt hands seize her ankles and drag her from where she hid.

Sore, filthy, and minutes from admitting she was deranged, Sadie looked at the vermin in front of her and wondered what would be worse: making an effort to kill this man and suffer the consequences or brave the tireless blizzard outside? Either way, she reasoned, she was as good as dead. What did she have to show for it? A dead husband, a ruined homestead, a shell of a body she doubted would ever feel like hers again.

“What are you waiting for?” She growled.

“Listen to me, you whiny bitch--”

Suddenly, gunshots rang outside. “Get ‘em Arthur!” A voice screamed, distantly.

Sadie and her captor eyed each other with bewildered expressions. Before she could make sense or reason, he dove for the ladder. Alone, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Sadie couldn’t figure out what to do as the skirmish intensified outside. Who were these men? Looking desperately around her, Sadie yanked open the wardrobe and dove into its cavity. “Christ, Christ, Christ.” She squeezed her eyes shut and suddenly, the shots ceased.

“Get in there and see what you can find. Micah, get the horses––”

The front door opened, and Sadie could hear rummaging and heavy foot falls against the timbered floor. Bracing herself, she peeked outside and saw the top of a man’s hat moving lazily from one corner of her home to the other. Silently, she tiptoed to the edge of the rafter to see a tall broad-shouldered man make his way with things she and Jake had spent months hoarding and saving. Her insides seared with a hatred she could almost taste as she hid and let this man make his way with their… her things. She wanted lightning to strike this man where he stood; she wanted this cabin to burst into flames; she wanted him and every other person on this earth to rot in the misery that burst from inside her. And then, he stopped rummaging.

His focus landed squarely on the frames on the mantelpiece. With a gloved hand, the man picked up each frame with mild interest until he arrived on her wedding picture. Sadie knew it well.

She’d practically begged Jake to take it with her.

Eons ago, he had proposed to her under a birch tree in the outskirts of town. His hair was matted against his forehead with nervous sweat as he got down on one knee and asked her to make him the luckiest son of a bitch he knew. She’d barreled him over in a glee she doubted she would ever feel again.

Weeks later, when they stood in the photographer’s parlor, she elbowed his side, _“Stand up straight, you fool.”_ He’d laughed and grabbed her hand a little tighter. After the flash pulsed and the smoke cleared, the photographer said something to them she couldn’t remember. She was too busy trying to engrave it all in her memory. I want to think of this until the moment I die.

She hadn’t thought Death would come for her so soon.

Gingerly, the man returned the picture to its place and joined his cronies outside. “What the hell am I gonna do,” she wondered. Bracing herself, Sadie made her way down the ladder and looked for anything she could to protect herself. She knew the guns were gone; they were one of the first things they’d grabbed. Looking side-to-side, her caught the glint of an abandoned knife on the table. It was small, but it had a serrated edge. “This’ll do,” she reasoned.

“What do we have here?”

Sadie spun around and stared squarely at the blonde degenerate in front of her. “Who the hell are you?” She challenged, with a ferocity that surprised her. “Who are you?” She yelled, but the man laughed. She needed to outrun him to escape, but he countered her moves with a lunge. “C’mon now darlin’, no need to be upset--” She dove for his arm, but narrowly missed cutting him. “Who the hell are you--”

“Micah, enough!”

The first man that came through the door looked horrified at the sight, but the second man… He was the one who had looked at her pictures. Under his hat, his expression was unreadable but his mouth was set in a grim line. As the silence dragged, she caught his questioning eyes with hers. _What do you want with me?_

“Miss, I––”

“Who are you?” She screeched. Micah made another try to ensnare her, but she pulled away at the last minute and sliced the air with the knife. “Miss, please––We won’t hurt you!”

“Get away from me!”

“Miss we need you calm down, now. We don’t mean you no harm. Micah,” the older man warned, “Enough!”

“I didn’t mean no harm. She’s the one that wanted to kill me!”

“Maybe we should let her,” the younger man huffed. Sadie couldn’t believe her ears. She could feel her body trembling. A part of her just wanted to make the call to end her already.

“Quiet, both of you! Ma’m, we won’t hurt you. Come with us––”

“No!” She grabbed a bottle at the corner of the table and threw it at the first one. He dodged it nimbly and made a grab for her. Running around the table, he tossed it over and the gas lantern shattered. The smell of old gas filled her nostrils and flames erupted.

“Miss, it’s gonna be alright, please.” Sadie angled the knife between her and the mustachioed man in front of her, but it suddenly felt like all of the exhaustion and pain multiplied and her limbs turned sluggish. Whatever happened to her then, she reasoned, didn’t matter. If these men wanted to kill her, she’d let them.

She let them guide her to their horses in a daze. She felt the cold snow crunch beneath her bare feet, but she couldn’t be bothered. One of them hoisted her up onto his horse, but she could barely keep her eyes long enough to see their… _her_ home burning behind her as they rode away.

* * *

 

_“Baby, this is going to be the start of our forever!” Jake tossed his head back and let out a deep laugh that filled her with warmth. “Jacob Adler, you better hope so. We put down a mean loan on this place.”_

  
_“I know!” He said as he lifted her into the air in uncontainable excitement. “But it’s ours! And guess what?”_

  
_Laughing, Sadie met his gaze with her own. His eyes burned with intensity and promise. “It’s ours, and you’re mine.” His kiss took her breath away like it always did, and she let herself melt into his arms like tomorrow would never come._


	2. A Burial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake Adler is put to rest after an unexpected moment shared between his widow and Arthur Morgan.

_“It doesn’t take an exceptionally observant man to see morale’s low,”_ Arthur wrote. His numb fingers fumbled with the charcoal, but he persisted despite the cold wind that blew through him. He’d hoped that the mood would improve after he and Javier had risked their necks to save that ingrate Marston, but the overall feeling in the camp was one of gloom and despair.

The men had played more card games than they’d ever cared for, and Dutch and Hosea nearly yanked their hair out while they schemed for a solution. He’d be hard-pressed to say he wasn’t struggling, but he knew he wasn’t having the worst of it. Not by far.

Last night, insomnia reared its ugly head. Despite the roaring wind, he lit a cigarette and stepped out into the dark night. He’d just about finished it off when he heard animalistic wails coming from one of the wagons. Thinking a wolf was attacking the horses, he’d sprinted through the deep snow until he approached. Instead of seeing a wounded animal, he saw the Adler widow with her knees tucked to her chest.

The air was frigid and fierce, but the woman seemed unaffected as her grief shook her thin frame with each unrestrained sob. Her hair was stuck to her tear-stained cheeks and her voice was hoarse with exhaustion. The agony that contorted her features was palpable, and Arthur almost felt like he’d intruded in a sacrosanct moment of privacy. He had half the mind to turn on his heel and forget he’d been out of place, but he stood rooted to the snow-covered ground in silent solidarity. “Christ almighty,” he whispered under his breath.

He’d thought the wind would take his whisper, but Sadie’s body instantly went still. Where there had once been unleashed delirium was now hyper-focused severity in her eyes, and Arthur suddenly regretted leaving his room at all. Her eyes asked him the obvious, but something steeled him.

He knew all too well what it was like to lose someone, a loved one. It was crushing; at times, unfathomable. While he had Dutch and the boys and the women, this woman had no one. She’d had a man, and now, his corpse was draped with a dirty sheet in the wagon in front of them.

Without allowing himself a second for doubt to creep in, he kneeled beside her. It was then that he realized she had braved the cold in nothing but a shift, and the thought alone filled him with an iciness. He unbuttoned his coat as quickly as stiff fingers would let him, and he grabbed her gruffly. The force of their chests colliding was strong and awkward, but Arthur didn’t know what else to do. Sadie was motionless against him, but she didn’t protest. He took that as a silent surrender; it wasn’t ideal, but she wouldn’t freeze to death either.

“Miss Adler,” he began, “I–I’m sorry for your loss.” If she had been waiting for this, he wouldn’t know. He felt her hands grab handfuls of his shirt right before he felt her warm tears soak through. Her sobs wracked her body and bore into his own.

For their share of eternity, they both kneeled in the snow; united in their grief. Finally spent and feeling hollow, Sadie wordlessly rose and walked barefoot back to the cabin where she’d emerged from. As he stared after her, Arthur resolved to do what they should have done from the very get-go.

“Arthur, are you ready?”

Susan Grimshaw’s voice asked him from behind. A small smile creeped into his lips as he put his journal into his bag and met the arbiter’s solemn gaze with his own. “Ready.” Convincing the gang had been simple enough.

They hadn’t been able to host a proper burial since Blackwater, and it was easier to convince them to bury an additional body over burying a single one. Mr. Adler’s corpse was just another one to add to the single and unceremonial pile he doubted either of the deceased had ever planned to be their final resting place, but their dice hadn’t rolled in their favor.

“Have you asked any of the women if they’ll be coming to see Davey off?” Ms. Grimshaw scoffed. “Davey was a mean son of a bitch, but a good one. Doubt any of these girls want to brave that cold––”

“Wait!”

Arthur and Ms. Grimshaw spun around to see Sadie burst from the cabin. Ms. Grimshaw’s surprise wasn’t shocking; Sadie had hardly spoken since arriving to camp, and when she did, her husky voice was barely above a whisper. “Miss Adler,” Arthur greeted but it seemingly failed to register.

“Take me with you,” she pleaded.

“It’s gonna be a hard ride––”

“I can ride fine.”

“The boys and I were going to try and be quick about it––”

“Please,” she pleaded with finality. Arthur couldn’t find it within him to refuse her. “Alright, you can ride up front with me.” He gestured to the front of the wagon, but she decisively moved to the back and clambered up alongside her husband’s body. Her expression was unreadable, but Arthur didn’t bother to make sense or reason. He whistled to Javier, Charles, and Reverend Swanson before climbing into the driver’s seat and putting the horses into motion.

The ride was rough, as promised, but silent. Unlike the howls he’d heard last night, Sadie sat mutely until they arrived to the clearing. “We’ll dig here. Reverend, I’ll leave you to the rest,” he ordered as he opened the wagon. Sadie hopped out wordlessly and stood aside while they unloaded the bodies and started to dig.

With a ringing finality, Arthur finished nailing their makeshift crosses before sticking them at the graves’ heads. Reverend Swanson opened his worn black book and began to pray. When his voice finished echoing around their hung heads, the boys mounted their rides and headed off. Beside him, Sadie’s lips moved silently. Was she praying? Arthur wondered. Religion had escaped him long ago.

“... each and every one of them,” she said almost soundlessly. Arthur hadn’t meant to hear, but her promise reached his ears.

“I won’t rest ‘til I put bullets in their heads, Jake. I promise you.” He turned to see her eyes blazing with purpose. Despite the tears that trailed down her cheeks, her expression was fierce and uncompromising. “Each and every one of them,” she growled, with intention. Arthur nodded and walked back to the carriage.

Believer or not, Arthur doubted Sadie Adler would fail her promise.


	3. Chatter and Bearings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadie learns more about Arthur, and it starts to dawn on her that being a member of an outlaw gang isn't the worst thing.

Under the sun’s warm gaze, it was almost easy to turn a blind eye towards the criminal debauchery of the Van der Linde Gang. Laughter rang more freely in the new campsite than it did in the western arctic they had been in before, but Sadie hardly felt the urge to partake. For now, she was an animal of routine. Wash clothes, chop firewood, clean the site, and repeat. She worked until her muscles and joints screamed for relief, but she wouldn’t stop until she collapsed on her bedroll besides Tilly’s. Out of all the women, she seemed the less suspicious of her, but Sadie was hardly dissuading the others. For all they knew, she could have been a bonafide psychopath with a hitlist. Hell, there were mornings she wondered if she was.

Except, there were brief moments of respite.

One morning, she stepped out of her tent and nearly collided with Dutch’s right-hand. “I’m sorry, Ms. Adler––”

“Don’t be,” she replied harsher than she’d intended. Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything. As she turned, she could feel his heavy gaze follow her to her first tasks of the day.

She found him more unsettling than the rest. The man seemed to count his words, and yet, he commanded an admiration from everyone within the camp. The women greeted him warmly, the men respected his authority unquestioningly, and Jack seemed to adore the ground he walked on. But how? As far as she knew, he was no better than a cold-blooded murderer who lived as an outlaw because he lacked the integrity to do much else. Yet… He found her in the snow.

She’d be a liar if she said she remembered it all. Miss Grimshaw had told her days later she was delirious with a fever that ravaged her well into her first days with the gang, but in a moment of brief lucidity, Sadie remembered walking to the wagon that held Jake’s body. Her body still ached with the raw pain of having lost him, and of all people, Arthur Morgan was the one who held her down; tethered her to the world of the living. The memory of it made her skin burn with humiliation. He had no right to see her like that, but he never brought it up. He didn’t bring it up on the ride to Jake’s burial, and he hadn’t brought it up since their move to Horseshoe Overlook.

“Camp’s quiet without the men,” Karen’s voice tugged Sadie back into the present. Sadie looked at the shirt she’d been scrubbing absent-mindedly and she noticed the red dye had started to fade into the soapy water. Her fingers stung from the friction, but she hastily made moves to hang it. “A little peace never hurt nobody,” Tilly replied with a laugh. “Besides, sometimes those men can be too much.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you’re talking about one man, aren’t ya?” Karen quipped and Mary-Beth laughed beside her. “Don’t be shy, Tilly. We know you’ve been eyeing Lenny for months now.”

“I have not!”

“Have too!” They mischievously threw back.

“No harm in looking for a solid man like Lenny. He’s as sweet as they come. Besides, with the slim pickings in this camp, I don’t blame you for making a bid as soon as you can,” Karen reasoned. Sadie continued wash in silence as the girls threw casual barbs at one another. Their voices droned into a comfortable chatter until Arthur’s name sprang from Mary-Beth’s lips. 

“He’s not so bad for a man of his age! He’s strong and funny when he wants to be. He’s a man of commitment too! After a couple of drinks, Hosea tossed out all his dirty laundry and told me about his fiancee! Can you believe it?”

“I doubt he was looking to make her an honest woman,” Sadie grumbled. She thought she’d said it quietly, but she suddenly felt the weight of three pairs of eyes on her back. Turning around slowly, she saw their jaws slack with surprise. “She speaks!” Karen exclaimed. Mary-Beth chided her, “Knock it off. Sadie, did you say something?” Sadie fought the urge to roll her eyes, “Nothing important.”

“Oh come now! What did you say?” Under the curious glances of the trio, Sadie felt suddenly overwhelmed. “I–I just said I doubt he wanted to make her an honest woman.”

At this, the three laughed. “I doubt any of the men in this camp would know what to do with one!” Tilly teased.

“That’s what Hosea told me! I can’t remember the broad’s name, but apparently she broke Arthur’s heart,” Mary-Beth continued. Sadie couldn’t imagine a man of Arthur’s reputation being bothered by a woman, and she wasn’t alone.

“Well, she’s a damn fool. If I had to pick out of all of these idiots, Arthur’s not my last choice.”

Tilly laughed, “Oh really? What would you do with a man like Arthur, Karen?”

At this, Karen’s lips drew into a lusty smile, “Now, now. I can’t burden a little virgin like you with all the things I’d do to make him co––”

All of a sudden, the ground beneath them shook with loud tremors and the sounds of thundering hooves surrounded them like a deafening cacophony. “What in the hell,” Sadie huffed as she and the girls dropped their wash loads and ran to the the source of the sound. As the dust cleared, they saw the male half of the Van der Linde howling and screaming in victory as they paraded their day’s bounty. All of them were straddled on top of their steeds as they cheered and whooped and Arthur rode into the clearing with Charles trailing him. Sadie didn’t recognize the horse Arthur rode, but the smug grin that graced his features gave it away: he’d found a new ride.

“Ladies, you all missed quite the show!” Dutch greeted them with a tone of triumph. “The old boy’s still got some spunk to him,” he laughed as Hosea explained that they were all finishing a bust when Arthur spotted the mustang from afar. “I didn’t think he still had it in him,” Hosea laughed easily.

“I’m not the old man of the camp,” Arthur teased as the horse bucked and trotted impatiently.

“And that’s not all. Our old friend Trelawney found out where Sean is. First thing tomorrow, the boys are gonna ride out and rescue our favorite Irish bastard,” Dutch announced. “And then,” Dutch’s gaze found Sadie’s squarely, “We’re gonna see what our new friend Kieran has to say about the O’Driscolls.” Sadie could feel her insides tense in anticipation. For the first time, she could feel a sense of belonging among these murderers and thieves. “I can’t wait,” she said through gritted teeth.

 “You’re not alone,” Dutch conceded with a tip of his hat. “Now, let’s see what Pearson’s managed to scrounge up. Ladies, if you’d be so kind to join us––”

“Are we going after the O’Driscolls after we rescue Sean?” The entire camp seemed to still at her sudden outburst. “My, my, my. She’s been wordy all mornin’. If anyone’d have told me she’d gotten her tongue back after all these weeks, I would’ve called them a liar,” Karen guffawed. Sadie didn’t drop her gaze from Dutch’s.  _ Well?  _ She dared him. 

His lip curled, but the emotion behind it was a mystery. The silence stretched between them for slow and drawn out seconds. His unflinching stare was starting to unnerve Sadie. Had she finally done it? Had she finally managed to test his patience? Right before she considered backing down, Dutch’s curl drew into an easy smile. “Well, I think it’s safe to say Ms. Adler will be staying with us for a little longer. Or am I wrong?”

Sadie wasn’t expecting this. “Where else am I gonna go?” She’d hoped to sound defiant, but her ears didn’t convince her.

“Right. Arthur, give her your old mount. That mustang’s gonna keep you busy for the next while anyhow. Now, if there aren’t any more matters to settle, ladies would you be so kind…?” In almost matching strides, the women of the Van Der Linde Gang made moves to prepare dinner. 

“You sure don’t think, do ya?” Arthur asked her pointedly. Sadie hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until she exhaled deeply. “Does it matter?”

“Guess not. Follow me.”

Sadie walked alongside him in shocked silence until he dismounted and tied his stallion to the makeshift post. “He’s a regular old ride” 

“Excuse me?”

With practiced hands, Arthur grabbed untied the buckskin gelding’s lead. “He’s a good horse. Nothing extraordinary. A boy like this merits an ordinary boy’s name.”

“You’re sure making a tough sell there.”

“You don’t have much of a choice, but he’s yours and he’ll do.”

Sadie eyed the horse and shrugged. “I guess Bob’ll do.”

“Bob?” He scoffed. 

“Like ya said. Ordinary boy, ordinary name.”

Arthur hung his head in slight disbelief. Had she been another woman, he would have laughed outright in her face. Except, there was something about her that told him to remain silent. Serious. Studious. "Bob'll do just fine," he agreed and handed her the reigns to her new mount.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for being so patient. I've got some big plans for this fan-fic, so I've rearranged a few chapters and gotten rid of others entirely. So in case you've been following, don't be shocked at the new chapter count and content!


	4. Wild Look to Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur was everywhere she needed him to be, and yet he seemed to crawl under his own skin. Sadie gets some answers.

“You’re starting to look like a bear,” Charles noted. Arthur scratched his beer self-consciously. “It keeps the bugs away,” he defended himself weakly. Charles scoffed. “I’m sure it keeps women away too.” At that, Arthur couldn’t help but smile. “What do you know about women, Charles?”

“I thought I knew ‘em, but some of ‘em leave me wondering.” Arthur was about to respond with a question when he saw Sadie make her way from her tent to the horses at the edge of camp. His eyes followed her determined steps until she stopped squarely in front of his old horse. With some amusement, he could faintly sense her displeasure as the horse stepped away and cantered further from her attention. She was unrelenting. “I can’t say I disagree there."

“You know if you keep looking at her like that, she might slit your throat,” he warned. Arthur couldn’t find the response to disagree. 

Since arriving to their new camp, he’d taken extra care to steer clear of Adler’s ire. She seemed more comfortable, but it didn’t take a smart man to know that she was still deep in her mourning. According to Mary-Beth, though, none of the women had heard her cry like she had when she first arrived. Instead, she seemed to retreat further and further into herself. He’d thought that with her a ride to her name, she would open up to them; the girls at least. Instead, Arthur caught her sitting alone and seeming painfully lost. He couldn’t understand why he felt so enraptured in her pain, but he couldn’t help but notice her whenever she was near. He’d thought it was because he understood what it was like to lose someone, but hadn’t everyone in the camp?

Everyone in the gang had suffered tremendous loss before finding themselves at home in each other’s miserable company. He was an orphaned illiterate with a blood trail behind him when Dutch and Hosea scooped him up. If he thought he was a sorry sight then, he wondered what his younger self would make of him now. He hadn’t exactly righted his wrongs, and he wasn’t in the company to walk a moral path either. 

“She has a wild look in her eye.” Charles nodded in Sadie’s direction. 

“And a vendetta, no doubt.”

“What do you think about that?” 

“Revenge is a fool’s game,” Arthur replied. “Dutch says it all the time. We all know it. Ain’t no reason to put more blood on your hands than needed.”

“If you’d gone through what she did, you’d think it twice.” 

“I didn’t take you for the sympathetic sort,” Arthur said in surprise. 

“Some men need to be put in the ground. Consider it a service.”

He scratched his beard idly and shrugged. “She’s gonna get herself killed.”

“Does it matter?”

Arthur was ready to laugh it off, but the serious look in Charles’s eye cut the laugh short. “Well?” He pressed again.

“It don’t matter if she get killed,” he heard himself say lightly. Except, he felt the slight discomfort that with the lie.  _ Why did it feel like a lie? _ “That horse looks like it’s givin’ her a hard enough time,” he deflected. Shutting his journal closed, Arthur tipped his hat in goodbye as he made his way towards the horses. “He was mine. I’ll give her a hand.”

“You do that,” the smile Charles flashed him was unnerving, but Arthur wasn’t going to bother himself with that load of bull. As far as he was concerned, he was putting the same attention on Ms. Adler he did to just about anyone else in the gang.

As he approached the horses, he could see the clear expression of frustration in her face. Her brow was furrowed in deep concentration as she tried to hoist the loaded saddle onto Bob,  but the horse kept moving and avoiding her mount. Horses weren’t dumb animals, and it look like Sadie lacked the patience to earn the animal’s trust.

“If ya keep spookin’ it, it’s gonna keep moving away,” he offered casually as he leaned against the post. Sadie huffed and dropped the saddle at her feet. “What good is a horse if you can’t get it to do what you want?”

“He’s learning. He gave me trouble too. Wouldn’t be surprised if this ornery fellow took off before he gave ya a chance.” Sadie rolled her eyes. “Did you come here to give me a lecture, Mr. Morgan?”

“Thought I could offer––”

“Why do you hate John?”

Arthur took a step back, stunned. “What do you mean?”

Sadie cocked her brow knowingly. “You come here preaching about patience, but I see you fumin’ whenever John walks by.”

“I came here to offer you some help. If you don’t want it, don’t––”

“This beast is giving me trouble. Fine. I’ll wait and play nice ‘til he feel comfortable, but I wanna know why you don’t like him.”

“The horse is just fine––”

“Don’t answer,” she cut into his deflection. “I get it. I also didn’t ask you to come here, but here we are. Dealing with things we don’t want. Guess we’re just a couple of idiots playing nice for no reason at all,” she said with bitterness in her tone. Bewildered, Arthur was about to turn on his heels when he saw her struggle to saddle her mount. Again. Annoyed, he grabbed the saddle from her hands and hoisted it onto the beast’s back without a grunt of effort. Shoulder to shoulder, he met her annoyance with a glare of warning. “What’s it to you?”

“Every time I look up, I catch you lookin’ at me. Did I do something wrong? I don’t know. I like to figure things out on my own. The only person that seems to rile you up like I do is John, and I wanna get to the bottom of it. If you won't tell me why you keep starin' at me, fine. Tell me, what did he do?”

Arthur couldn’t understand what was going on today. First Charles, and now Sadie? Was everyone looking for a reason to interrogate him? Lost in his thoughts, he forgot that she was waiting for an answer, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer either question. He knew damn well why John irked him, but why did she unsettle him too? 

“He left,” he answered simply. Judging by the expression on her face, he knew she was making the mental math to see how that related to her.  _ It doesn’t _ , he wanted to tell her. 

“But he’s back now,” Sadie reasoned. 

“You see Jack? That boy didn’t come outta the air. As soon as he could sit, John got cold feet and took off without tellin’ no one. Not Dutch, not Hosea, and sure as hell not me. Didn’t leave word as to when he’d come back, if he’d send money for the boy or Abigal, nothin’. Only sorry scum would do such a thing,” he growled. The confusion that spread across her face made sense to him. He could understand why his anger would confuse anyone who didn’t know the truth.

He was just like John, but John came back.

John didn’t fail, he just disappointed. With time Abigail would forgive him, but Eliza and Isaac were dead. Even the thought of their names darkened his mood like nothing else. He still remembered the fresh snow that rested on their crosses and fresh graves. He had almost fallen off his horse when the realization hit him; they were dead, and for what? He'd found his answers, but why they were killed didn't explain why he couldn't be there. He should have been and he wasn't and now they were dead and he was breathing undeservingly. And no matter what he did, Arthur knew the self-loathing and guilt would follow him like a shadow until a bullet took him out of his misery. He didn’t deserve to die an old man. 

Arthur turned his face away from Sadie. He could feel his body begin to stiffen and his jaw lock with anger. Before he could snap, he turned away and walked to his tent. He could hear steps running behind him, and he was just about to let loose to whoever was unfortunate enough to stop him, but he turned to see Javier.

“Compadre, you alright?”

Arthur didn’t answer, but he listened as Javier explained the plan to get Sean back. With half his mind in the conversation and another half wondering what sort of fool he just made himself to be, Arthur’s eyes searched for Sadie behind Javier’s shoulder. He was expecting her to be gone, but he was shocked to meet her eyes across the camp.

She truly saw him, and that was what unnerved him. 

“Let’s go,” he commanded gruffly. In the farthest recesses of his mind, he weakly hoped this ride would be his last. He didn’t know how he would face her again.


	5. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadie finds a friend in Abigail. Arthur drinks 'til he can't, and Sean's back in business.

A jubilant scream erupted from the middle of the camp, “Your fearless leader is back!” Hoots of laughter and claps followed, and the sounds of bottles being uncorked could be heard filling the evening’s air. Sadie rolled onto her side and squeezed her eyes shut. Soon after her conversation with Arthur, he and the rest of the men had ridden off to retrieve their Irish golden boy. There was no doubt that Sean Macguire had been missed among the Van Der Linde Gang, but Sadie couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the night’s celebration. Burrowing deeper into her sheets, she tried to shut the party’s sounds out of her mind. One minute, two, and three passed but her mind wouldn’t stop racing. 

_ What the hell did he mean? _

As much as she had tried to, Sadie couldn’t forget the look of sheer anguish on Arthur’s face. She’d sensed the tension between him and John before, but she hadn’t expected to get such a visceral reaction out of him. She just wanted to know why the hell he kept staring at her, watching her. She felt like she couldn’t get a moment’s peace while he was in camp, but then again, she couldn’t understand how he managed to get under her skin either.

“Sadie?” She rolled over to see Abigail lifting the tent’s canvas flap open. “Can I help you Miss Roberts?” Abigail offered her a small smile in greeting. “The gang’s gonna throw quite the reception. Why don’t you join us?” As if to show her what she meant, Abigail tipped the mouth of the whiskey bottle to her lips and took a healthy swallow. Sadie wondered if her face relayed her indisposition as much as she felt. 

“I’m not much in the mood to celebrate,” she whispered as a familiar chill crept into her bones. Drinking, smiling dancing… That all seemed beyond her now. There were days she woke up shaking, but it wasn’t warmth she sought. She would pull her body tight and taut under her blankets, and she would shut her eyes tightly as she willed the tremors to still every morning. Yet, they persisted. They persisted while she crouched next to the blazing fire in the center of camp and they persisted when she sat under the sun’s bright gaze. 

It didn’t sake long for Sadie to realize it wasn’t the cold that made her shake, but rather, it was something blazing; it was a fire that seared her insides and fueled her veins with an intensity she had never experienced before the O’Driscolls put a bullet inside her beloved. She was an angry woman, and she would gladly condemn herself to eternal damnation if that’s what it would take to see every single O’Driscoll six feet underground.

It was the only out she saw from the misery that followed her, other than taking matters into her own hands. There were brief lapses of judgement, courage maybe, when she would eye the firearms around the campsite and think one shot would be all it would take to end it all. And yet, like a coward, she always changed her mind before she could put her thoughts into action.

Deep inside her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed Abigail had knelt beside her. “Miss Adler, I know we don’t know each other very well, but I can tell you’re brave. I really can. What you went through, hell, all of us shudder at the thought of it. We can’t blame you hiding out like this––”

“Who says I’m hiding?”

Abigail drew back, slightly. She was surprised to see a defiant flame ignite in Sadie’s eyes as the blonde widow challenged her. “Hiding’s the wrong word, maybe.”

“And I don’t feel very brave, either.”

“Do we ever?” Abigail took another sip, smaller than the first. “I feel like we’re all fighting a current, and we’re too stupid to turn tail and ride it away. But sometimes, every now and then, I see someone like you. Someone who sticks to their guns and damns anyone who stands in their way. Sadie, you’re just about the bravest person I ever met.”

The sudden onslaught of praise broke something inside of her. Sadie could feel the all-too familiar pin-prick pain behind her eyes as her vision began to blur. She turned her face, but she knew her voice gave her away, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Just know that I do mean it, and I, well, I’m here. If you need someone to talk to. God knows we’re not the best, but… I’m sincere.” Sadie searched Abigail’s face for a sign of mocking or taunting, but when their gazes locked, she knew there was nothing but earnestness behind her words. “Thank you,” she choked out.

“Now c’mon,” Abigail grabbed Sadie’s elbow and forced her to her feet. With a soft smile, she pushed the bottle into her arms and nodded towards the party. “There’s a real bravery in the livin’.”

* * *

“Well, look at that,” Charles slurred. Arthur’s swig of liquor caught in his throat and burned his inside. He refused to cough and make his shock obvious, but he wasn’t alone in his surprise. Everyone couldn’t believe the Adler widow was making an appearance.

“I don’t wanna see anyone ‘ere without a drink o’choice,” Sean yelled. Karen laughed and nearly fell off his lap. “Get that woman a bottle, ‘cause I think she needs it as much as I do!” Sadie and Abigail joined them all by the fire, and Arthur shifted uncomfortably. Putting the bottle to his lips, Arthur greedily gulped down the remaining whiskey. “Atta boy Arthur! I wanna see everyone ‘ere loosen up for the night! Especially is this old coot can enjoy himself!” At the that, everyone toasted; oblivious to Arthur’s discomfort. He was dead set on drinking until his eyes crossed and he could forget his conversation with Sadie from earlier. But as much as he tried to clear his mind, his eyes went in and out of focus squarely on Sadie’s firelit shape across the firepit.

From somewhere beyond the debauchery, Arthur could hear music drifting from Dutch’s phonograph. “Do ya hear that?” Mary-Beth slurred beside him. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s asked me to dance.” 

“Well, why don’t we?” Arthur drawled lazily. He doubted he could put one foot in front of the other, let alone dance, but he needed to put as much distance between him and Sadie.  _ What? Why?  _ Shaking his head free from reason, Arthur grabbed Mary-Beth’s hand and clumsily pulled the two of them upright. The group hooted and hollered, but Arthur ignored them all.  Letting his head lull lazily, he saw Sadie’s curious gaze… seconds before his heart seized at the sight of her lips around the camp’s finest hooch. 

“Arthur, I didn’t take you for a dancer––”

“I’m not,” he answered gruffly. He slowly guided her, mindlessly. As his feet moved, his mind wandered everywhere but on the present. His thoughts felt sluggish, his limbs weighed a ton. 

_ Where did Eliza and Isaac think he was? Did they wish he’d come sooner?  _

“Arthur? Arthur?”

_ Eliza had always greeted him with a smile. It was sweet and disarming. Despite the grime and filth that coated him inside and out, Eliza’s smile had a way of making him think he had a shot. A clean shot. _

“Arthur!” He hadn’t felt her let go of him, but the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back and surrounded by the laughing and jeering of the gang. “Arthur!” Mary-Beth exclaimed worriedly. Before he could blink to clear his vision, Sean’s face was up front to his own, “Oh boy-o, I knew ya loved me! Look at ‘im! Floored and happy to ‘ave m here! Oh, I love you sorry lot, I do! And the night’s still young!” Arthur tried to bat Sean away, but the Irishman’s face disappeared before his brain could move his arms. “Just leave ‘im there, the party’s over here!” Arthur let his body relax into the ground as the drunken stupor overtook him. 


	6. Debts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur reveals more than he'd intended.

“He was a tow-head baby,” Arthur slurred into Sadie’s ear.

After the party had drunkenly ceased minutes before the sun started to glow with the new day, Sadie felt an unfamiliar tug of sympathy attack her when she saw Arthur’s unconscious body a couple of feet from his tent. It could have been the liquor that pumped through her body, it could have been the warmth of the campfire… Next thing she knew, she was pulling Arthur into a seated position. “Get up, cowboy,” she grunted as she threw his limp arm behind her shoulder and started the short trek to his cot. 

At first, she thought he was just mumbling drunk incoherencies. Then, words: “He was a tow-head baby.”

“What?” She questioned as she tried to drop him onto his cot, but the combination of his weight and her drunkenness had them both on a heap in his foldout. The tangle of limbs was less of a struggle and more of a trap, because Sadie hardly felt Arthur try and move free. She tried shifting out from beneath him, but his words kept her stopped her. “Yella’, yella’, yella’ hair. Blue, blue, blue eyes. She said he looked like me––”

“What are you saying?” But Arthur didn’t listen or mind her. “Blue, br-bl-bluuuue,” he said with a chuckle. As his shoulders shook with his weak laugh, Sadie shimmied from underneath him. “Who has blue eyes?” She heard herself ask.

Suddenly, Arthur’s laugh stopped and grave severity set into his features. With a faraway gaze, he whispered, “My boy.” Sadie let the revelation wash over her. She was stunned, silent. “He was a good babe,” he whispered. “Laughed when I held him. It was a good sound,” he trailed. Through the weak smile, Sadie could see a sadness that pulsed like a fresh wound. “What… what was his name?” She whispered, despite herself. For the first time since she helped him up, she could see his eyes begin to focus. She had never been this close to him for this long. In passing, his eyes could have been a dark brown or nearly black, but with his face only a few breaths away from hers, Sadie could see deep blue irises. “Isaac,” he replied. “Isaac Morgan. Awfully serious name for a boy, but that was her daddy’s name.” Sadie couldn’t drop her gaze, and he was relentless. It was a silent showdown, but neither one of them wanted to look away. The seconds ticked into their private eternity until finally Arthur cleared his throat and averted his eyes. 

At a loss for what to say, Sadie’s mind scrambled. “It is a mighty serious name.”

“Eliza reasoned he could be a collared stiff with a name like that. Maybe a banker. Definitely not a bank robber, like his daddy.” 

“She has a name,” Sadie acknowledged softly. Arthur could have cried at the tragedy of it all, but he kept a serene expression on his face. After all, it was in the past. He was too drunk to care but not sober enough to put it all away like he always did. “Eliza… for a night, we was good company. When I came back around months later, I see her with a stomach so round the moon would blush.” He put his arms in the air in front of them as if to show her. “Big girl, but damn,  I’d be a liar if I didn’t say it made me feel somethin’ special. That girl,” he sniffed, “had a smile that would stop the room. She found me funny. Only a girl as pure as her could see a man like me and think I was the jokin’ sort.” Sadie wanted to blame the liquor, but there was no denying Arthur Morgan’s eyes were glistening with more than a drunkard’s sincerity. 

“She knew what I was and where I was going was no room for a woman and a babe, so I stopped by. Just to see. Sometimes I would stay. But I always up and left after putting a coin or two on their table, just to make sure they was set. It didn’t matter in the end,” he finished, clearing his throat. 

With a desperate hope she didn’t know she could still feel, let alone for a man she’d thought no better than a common criminal, Sadie hoped to God they were still breathing. Wherever they were, she hoped they were sleeping warmly in their beds.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and forcefully inhaled back as much emotion as he could. “Two bullets and $10,” he whispered. Sadie didn’t have to ask another question. 

“Ms. Adler?”

Sadie stole a glance, expecting to see something she didn’t. “I think it’s time you go back to your tent.”

“Right,” she replied softly.

* * *

 

In the days after Sean’s return, Sadie would chance looks in Arthur’s direction, but he kept living like he always did. With one foot in front of the other, Sadie saw him take off for hunting trips and other jobs with the gang. She thought about approaching him once or twice, but something would chill her. What had happened to him had happened ages before she had even become a blip in his mind.  _ I don’t have business there _ , she would reason, but then again, she couldn’t forget that he hadn’t hesitated to comfort her in the snow all those weeks ago. He could have let her freeze to death. Maybe she would have even stalked off into the trees without a glance back if he hadn’t been there to stop her, calm her, soothe her. She couldn’t put a number or value on what he had done for her, but she decided then and there that she at least owed the man the courtesy of her acceptance. A criminal or not, Arthur Morgan had made more efforts to make her feel like human than anyone she had seen since her life had been ripped from her.

“Are you gonna peel those potatoes or not?” Sadie turned to see Pearson glaring at her from his side of the table. He nodded to the pile of unpeeled legumes at her feet, “Well? We don’t carry dead weight around here.”

“Funny,” she shrugged, “Considerin’ you only cook a thing after it’s been killed, skinned, and sliced… All you need is for one of these girls to boil the water and set fire to the wood, and you’d really out do yourself.”

“Ha! You’re lucky Dutch let you stay and set you up with me. I doubt any of these poor bastards would risk doing more with you than trusting you to cut their taters.” Before Sadie  could fling her retort, Abigail arrived with Jack trailing silently behind her. “Pearson, I’d play nice. Sadie looks a little too comfortable with that knife in her hand.” Sadie cocked her brows at Pearson and slammed the knife’s point with the finality into the cutting board. Pearson’s shock was as clear as day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think of that? I always thought the game rushed Sadie's decision to turn into a gunslinger, so I thought a peek at her obvious annoyance of working for Pearson would be a nice button. I'm thinking the next chapter or so will be the one where she puts up her apron and takes up a gun. 
> 
> As always, your comments push me to churn out content faster and faster.


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